Death
by Neerod
Summary: Implied Atoji. B-day fic for ripper23. Jirou is unusually quiet, and Atobe wonders why.


Title:** Death**

Author: Neerod/ dhorz in ffnet

Ship: AtoJi

Genres: Drama, romance

Rating: K

Summary: Jirou is unusually quiet. Atobe wonders why.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I am not Konomi. Pity. 

Notes: I warn OOCness, and some immaturity on both sides. -bricked-. This is, I fear, unbetaed (and to think this was supposed to be a b-day gift!) Plus, it's also my first time writing AtoJi.

**A/N:** Birthday ficcie for ripper23. She loves the pair, and so I decided to write this for her. It's not expensive.

* * *

Jirou was subdued. He did not yawn, or curl up in the backseat like he always did, but he was up and alert, hugging his knees, looking suicidal. 

Atobe, who was no psychologist, did not know how to react. He only sat silently beside the former narcoleptic. He felt, strangely, humbled.

Now and then Jirou would choke back a sob, although tears did not course down his face. After that, he would shake his head and resume staring at whatever it was he'd been staring at on the limo floor.

Atobe almost sighed in frustration. He _needed_ to get Jirou out of that funk. He'd never seen a depressed Jirou before, and now, he had no knowledge of what to do, to say.

"Jirou," he began.

_Lame!_

"Don't die on me," Jirou said.

Atobe wasn't sure if he heard it right. "Come again?"

"_Don't die on me!_" Jirou whispered, fiercely.

"…What?"

Jirou made a sound halfway between a whine and a groan, and he was silent again. Atobe almost reached out to touch his hair, but snatched his hand back in time. _Ore-sama does not touch people like that_. Fortunately Jirou was too preoccupied with some imaginary carpet lint to notice.

This perplexed Atobe. Jirou was the type who did not brood, who did not_ think_, did not ponder the meaning of things but instead let his heart, his feelings, guide him. And because Jirou had a rabid fanboy's heart, he was always happy.

Well,_ almost_.

"Ore-sama," Atobe began,"will not die on you."

Jirou was mute. And deaf.

"Is that what you're so worried about, Jirou?"

Jirou mewled.

At that, Atobe almost reached out again, and realized he was acting very, very un-Atobe Keigo-like. He sighed and leaned back slowly.

"Ore-sama lives healthy," he said.

Jirou seemed not to listen.

"Ore-sama has enough money for excellent healthcare," Atobe continued. "Ore-sama also hires people he is sure will not slack off in work, so that there are no accidents…"

His voice trailed of. Heavens, that was _lame_ and _absurd_.

He began to think that he was not _that_ invulnerable at all. That he was mortal, just like Jirou and Oshitari and Shishido and everyone else. Accidents were inevitable, and people got sick, with some of the diseases being genetically induced and which aren't the fault of the persons involved.

And there was fate.

Damn, the whole mortality thing was dampening his mood.

Atobe put a hand to his forehead. "Jirou," he said once more.

He was rewarded by a "Mmm?"

"Ore-sama thinks there is a candy shop two blocks from here."

"Really?"

When Jirou turned towards him, none of the depression was showing on his face. He looked happy, cheerful, blissful.

Later, Atobe would think that Jirou was, surprisingly, reassured by what he'd said, as if it was just the right thing to keep Atobe living. In fact it could be, but fate is a bitch, and you never know when it's your time.

"Kei-chan's gonna treat me?"

"Of course."

"Yay! Sugoi!" Jirou threw his arms around Atobe and, to the captain's surprise, began to nuzzle his neck. "Kei-chan's very, very good!"

"Jirou—hey—"

"Kei-chan! Look! Look!" Jirou had let go of him and was pointing at the candy shop just outside the limo. "Come on now! I want lots of candy!"

Atobe smiled. "All right."

* * *

"Kei-chan?" 

"Hmm?"

Jirou, lying with his head on Atobe's lap, looked up at him. "I was just thinking. Sensei made us read this story about a man whose beloved was dying." Jirou shook his head. "I almost cried. It was so sad."

"You were awake that time?"

"Uh-huh!" Jirou nodded, as if such an action was a mundane occurrence to him. "It was…sad."

"Hm."

"Marui-kun and Fuji-kun won't die on me like that, would they? I'd cry a lot."

Atobe nodded, but he knew that no one knew.

Jirou looked at him. His eyes were serious; something else had replaced the usual fanboy glow in it. Atobe gazed back, held it.

"And neither will you."

"Yes," Atobe said softly.

Those_eyes_. What was Atobe seeing in them? Trust?

"You promise?"

"I…I promise," Atobe said, as if it were possible to maintain a promise like that."

Jirou grinned, and a few moments later, he was asleep.

But maybe Atobe could. For Jirou, just Jirou, he would keep himself alive.

His hand reached out, and it ruffled Jirou's hair carefully, lovingly.

* * *

Concrit is loved. Remember, this is my first time with the pair. I hope you enjoyed. 


End file.
